


777

by sidnihoudini



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Heaven, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: Just like on earth, Dean’s idea of a nice date is flicking a fake credit card at Sam, rattling off his food order, and waiting in the car.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	1. let's not try to figure out everything at once

**Author's Note:**

> Listen... apparently all I want to do is write a thousand little stories about monster hunting and cracking beers in Heaven.
> 
> The chapters don't follow a linear timeline, they basically all just take place post-15x20.
> 
> PS: 777 is an angel number that means something good is waiting for you. Biblically it represents perfection/completion.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean says with a smile. “Let me buy you dinner.”

*

Just like on earth, Dean’s idea of a nice date is flicking a fake credit card at Sam, rattling off his food order, and waiting in the car.

Sam bounces back down the little roadside diner steps with a plastic bag stretched heavy with food.

“Hey,” he says through the open passenger window, startling Dean’s hand away from the tape deck. “Remember Three Rocks?”

He opens the door as Dean screws up his face and asks, “What, like Oregon?”

“Yeah.” Sam gets his legs in and Dean starts the engine. “Spring Equinox. You got hexed, and we didn’t figure it out until you started to hoard like… cornflower and cinnamon sticks and shit?”

That’s the nicest, shortest way to tell the story. Dean snorts.

“Of course I remember that,” he says. “Friggin’ fertility witches, man.”

Sam laughs again, because Dean’s foibles with the dark arts always tickle him.

“Remember how it made you go crazy?” he presses. For three long days, Dean oscillated between hoarding, sweating, and acting like a prickly pear around everyone who wasn’t Sam. That’s why it took them so long to notice -- it wasn’t until late on day three that Dean started with the stockpiling. “Well, the waiter you wanted to knock out is the one who just served me your pie.”

Dean scoffs and starts eyeing the bag. “Everyone has bad days, man. What do you want me to do about it now?”

“Well next time, _you_ can go in, for starters.” Sam punctuates his request by throwing the credit card back at Dean. “And they didn’t have any cherry left.”

As Dean catches the card with a hand slap to the chest, he also leans over to curiously peer into the bag. “What’d you get me?”

“Apple.” Sam reaches back for his seatbelt, even though there probably aren’t any car accidents or speed traps in Heaven. He catches the sudden weird look on Dean’s face and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Dean’s eyes go all squinty into the distance as he tries to figure something out.

“Why is the place where I threatened to knock some guy out up here in Heaven?” he wonders, gaze suddenly snapping over to Sam. They make direct eye contact, and Sam feels his face get hot when Dean starts smirking. “Something you want to tell me, man?”

Sam snorts, overcompensates, realizes it, and then tries to play it off with a casual, “Like what?”

“Like,” Dean dramatically announces, raising both eyebrows. “Maybe you got all tingly when I defended your honor, and now you want to relive that memory again and again and _again_?”

Even though Sam knows he’s all twitchy, he tightens his expression and plows through.

“Keep dreaming, man.” He shakes his head and snorts again, but when he glances over, Dean is still staring at him with that look on his face. Sam clears his throat and quickly changes the subject. “Can we just find somewhere to park for the night?”

Dean’s expression softens.

“You got it, Sammy,” he grins, officially letting Sam off the hook.

They pull out of the tiny parking lot, and Dean stretches his arm out along the back of the seat, fingers curling to rest against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam cranks his window down. It’s a perfectly balmy midsummer night, even though they haven’t been up here for a whole day yet, and they both died in winter.

As they get back on the highway, Dean knocks his fingers into the back of Sam’s ear.

Sam bites back a smile.

*

The highway runs up the coast, and then out onto a peninsula that hangs over the water.

Sam knows they aren’t earthbound anymore, but the blue ocean and the tall trees are all unmistakably redwood country. They bomb down the peninsula with Dean’s favorite mixtape playing. There’s nothing out here but dusky blue skies and deep blue water.

“It’s kinda like driving right into space,” Sam comments. “But like, uncanny valley.”

Dean parks the car near the end of the road and turns off the ignition. “I wonder who controls the scenery, me or you.”

“Maybe both of us?” Sam raises his eyebrows. “We’ve been in all the same places.”

With a shrug, Dean digs into their takeout bag, and pulls out his gigantic burger in a double-wide styrofoam container that buckles when he tries to hold it one handed.

“I don’t know, man,” he says, briefly glancing over at Sam. Sam stares back, and then drops his gaze to watch as Dean flips his container open and lifts the top bun off his burger to remove the pickle. “You got me extra sauce,” he gasps, picking up the drippy, shitty burger with both hands. “Have I told you I love you lately?”

Smiling, Sam shakes his head slowly, and unwraps his ever reasonable sandwich.

“About thirty years ago.” Sam takes Dean’s pickle slice and adds, “Once.”

The smile on Dean’s face is big and bright. A thousand megawatts lit up, brighter than anything else even in Heaven.

“Well, I love ya, Sammy,” he says, fondly.

*

The stars come out, and all of the little adobe houses sprinkled up the coastline turn their lights on.

“We could find a motel,” Dean suggests, gaze fixed out on the water.

Sam turns away from Dean and looks at all the houses scattered away from them.

“Nah.” Sam wrinkles up his nose. Dean wrinkles his back. “I wanna sleep here.”

On earth, every new day had possibility -- kismet, and advent, and Dean. The comfort in knowing they were only separated by death is what kept Sam alive some days; he knew this, that he would be here again, whether it happened under the stars or in hellfire. 

When Sam got into bed on the mattress Dean never laid on, in the big house Dean never lived in, he would close his eyes and sink away. Just so he could see stars, like these stars, and be here again.

Small, lonely celebrations. They can find a motel to sleep in tomorrow night.

The houses up the coastline glow for a little while longer. Sam lays on the hood and stares up at the sky. 

*

“Catch,” Dean says, tossing Sam’s toothbrush into the air.

They keep looking at each other, grinning and laughing as they stand on the bluff and spit toothpaste off the rocks.

“Mine definitely went further than yours, Dean.” Sam is both eternally Player 2 and the one who makes the call. He points out into the dark black water like he can pinpoint exactly where his last one hit and gives Dean a smug look. “Beat that.”

Dean imitates him in a wobbly high-pitched voice, “Mine went further than yours,” and then loses interest in going for distance and turns to spit at Sam instead. Sam can tell he’s going to do it by the look on his face, so he laughs and jumps away right as Dean loads up and aims for his feet.

As he bounces by, he smacks Dean in the chest.

“Don’t swallow,” Sam unhelpfully cackles when Dean starts choking on his toothpaste.

Dean bends over, gagging and spitting, and even with tears in his eyes he still shoots a dirty look in Sam’s direction and smirks, “Why I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before, Sammy.”

“Shut up.” Sam laughs some more and goes back to angling his toothbrush over his back molars. “You know, I didn’t miss your sex jokes.”

He actually missed everything, but that’s nothing Dean has to know about.

Even so -- Dean looks scandalized for the first time since Sam has been topside. “I’m the funniest person you know.”

“You’re the only person I know,” Sam counters.

He knows he screwed up last time they were in Heaven. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think about Dean’s hurt expression lit up in those streetlights.

Dean looks like he wants to say something, too. They stare at each other as Dean clearly works out whether he’s going to cop to whatever it is, or keep it to himself for a while.

“About that,” he finally starts, hedging. Sam raises his eyebrows. “We’re not alone up here anymore.”

Sam gives him a look. “That’s cryptic, Carol Anne.”

“I was here for about a minute before Bobby found me, man,” Dean explains. Sam’s eyebrows knot; that actually is a surprise. “Well, I guess I found him.” Dean pauses to reconsider, clearly still trying to figure out his train of thought. “He gave me a beer.”

Still not totally following, Sam asks, “What, like a memory?”

“No, not a memory.” Dean shakes his head. “Bobby told me Heaven is different now. Jack busted all the walls down.”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows jerk up. “Seriously?”

“That’s what he said.” Dean shrugs. “Mom and dad, Rufus, Ellen.” He dramatically twirls his toothbrush around in a circular motion. “Everyone. They’re all around here somewhere.”

So even with the walls down, he and Dean are still stepping in the same footprint.

“Wow.” Sam smiles a little. “So it’s like, fairytale Heaven now.”

Dean shrugs and digs around in his toiletry bag. “Guess so.”

“So… what.” It’s not like Dean was ever a social butterfly, but… Sam watches as he packs his toothbrush away, and looks at him curiously. “You didn’t go and see mom? And dad?”

They stare at each other for a minute, and Dean gets shifty.

“I just drove around until you got here,” he finally shrugs, playing it cool.

Which really means he’s circling the drain and acting all bugged out, because that’s how Dean always gets when he has to admit he has feelings for Sam in a way that doesn’t include suicide or the death of whoever else gets stuck in their crosshair.

And Sam doesn’t help, because he starts to crack up in a truly uncontrollable way.

“Moment ruined,” Dean scoffs, throwing one hand up.

He turns back around to face the car, and Sam scrambles after him, still laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he calls, voice coming out all lopsided when he tries to swallow another laugh. “I’m sorry, Dean. Hey.” He reaches out and snags Dean by the back of the jacket; Dean spins around and glares at him. “Hey,” Sam says again, serious this time. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows earnestly. “I would have done the same thing.”

Dean is still glaring up at him but he does let Sam get in a hug.

“You wouldn’t have had the wheels to do so,” he says petulantly.

Sam smiles and tilts his nose into Dean’s ear. “Guess I would have been waiting for you at the side of the road, then.”

“Yeah, sounds like something you would do,” Dean crabs back. 

But under Sam’s jacket, he worms his fingers around until he finds Sam’s waist.

“I was scared I would wake up in the dark.” Sam finally admits it, quietly, into the soft collar of Dean’s flannel shirt. “I memorized a druidic memory spell. Just in case.”

Dean snorts, but his grip on Sam tightens, as well. He whispers, “I would have found ya.”

“Yeah.” Neither of them moves an inch. “I know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam and dean’s fuckin around in heaven playlist:  
> * red bull & hennessey - jenny lewis  
> * between the bars - elliott smith  
> * love me anyway - chappell roan  
> * fake empire - the national  
> * pacific coast highway - hole
> 
> [say hi on tumblr](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

The thick sole of Dean’s boot crushes through another pile of dead brush and fallen branches.

“Seriously?” Sam yells over, just a flash in Dean’s peripheral, a blur of brown hair and blue jean jacket. “A friggin’ Pope Lick, Dean?”

Out of breath and laughing, Dean skids behind a fallen log, and waits for Sam to come in hard next to him.

Sam does. He lands with a thump on his knees at Dean’s side.

“Pope Lick,” Dean grins, leaning in smugly. Lumbering through the trees towards them is the twenty foot tall human-goat hybrid they blasted out of a cave. He’s skinny but he’s slow, and they both watch as it catches itself on branches, hooves stumbling over the uneven forest ground. Dean sighs. “Nobody’s seen him since 1960. Look how awesome.”

Sam, still catching his breath, laughs and gets a buckshot ready. “You and I have different ideas of awesome.”

“Hey, we did your thing this morning,” Dean counters, getting into position as Sam levels the gun over the log and shoots.

The Pope Lick monster takes the hit. Obviously. Sammy is a good shot. Dean watches in excitement, eyebrows arched halfway up his forehead, as the monster staggers forward a few feet, and then overcorrects and falls back into the trees.

As he goes down, he stretches both arms out and takes at least a dozen old growth oaks down with him.

“You got the coins?” Sam asks, as they both get back up to their feet.

No creaky knees in Heaven. And Dean’s shoulder hasn’t pinched once.

“You know it.” Dean aggressively digs one hand down into his front jean pocket and pulls out the coins. They’re real gold -- leprechaun gold -- and they aren’t easy to find, but damn do they ever come in handy when you have to put down a troll. “Should we look for its nest?”

Sam lifts the coins out of Dean’s palm, and starts crunching back through the underbrush, over to where the gigantic Pope Lick fell.

“Probably.” Sam grimaces and eyes the corpse. “Appalachia always has the big ones, huh?”

It’s Dean’s favorite thing about West Virginia. He’s seen a couple faun and goatmen wander out past the Missouri-Kentucky border, but things this big never make it over the mountains. The Pope Lick Monster has been on Dean’s dream list since he was a kid.

“This thing is at least two stories high,” he agrees, stepping up to nudge its hoof with the toe of his boot. It’s at least the size of a couple car tires stacked on top of each other. He looks over at Sam, who is carefully cutting the coins into the monster’s belly, and then peers up into the tree canopy they’re standing under. “Did you say it lives by a trestle?”

Sam stands up, hair in his face, and wipes his hands off on the thighs of his jeans.

“Yeah.” He waves Dean closer even though Dean was already walking in his direction anyway. “Legend is that it lures hikers out onto the trestle, and then terrorizes them until they jump to their death.”

Dean eyes the monster’s fingers, sprawled palm up, and grimaces.

“Lovely,” he says. 

Sam laughs and looks over with a fond smile. “Yeah. I found a couple different things, anyway, one theory is that he was part of a travelling circus back in the day--”

“--There is no way this thing is fitting into the tent at Ringling--”

“--and,” Sam pauses until they make eye contact and Dean jerks his eyebrows up to show yes, Sam, he’s listening. “The other theory is that he was once a farmer who exchanged his goats for Satanic powers.”

Dean snorts.

“Well, can’t blame him for trying.” Dean pats Sam’s shoulder. “We all gotta eat.”

Laughing, Sam eyes him again and says, “Why you made him 20 feet tall…”

“I wanted a challenge!” Dean smacks the same spot he was just lovingly patting. “Tell me that isn’t cool, man. Look at its friggin’ belly button!” he exclaims, flapping one arm out in the direction of the dead monster. “I could go in up to the elbow on that thing.”

“You are so…” Sam trails off and grimaces over at him. “You want to fist Pope Lick?”

Well, Dean actually hadn’t thought of it like that. They stare at each other as Dean works through his train of thought. He’d assumed he was just playing it safe when he imagined up a Ken doll crotch instead of the 10-foot cock this thing was probably lugging around on earth.

His face definitely betrays him because Sam gives him another look.

“Let’s just salt and burn this thing, and look for its nest,” he says reasonably, arching an eyebrow at Dean and swinging the duffel down off his shoulder. “Lighter?”

Dean pulls it out of his back pocket with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam and dean's together 4ever playlist:  
> * slow show - the national  
> * i'll believe in anything - wolf parade  
> * hells bells - acdc  
> * in the meantime - spacehog  
> * faith - the weeknd  
> * teenage dream - katy perry
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com)!


End file.
